


Know Your Enemy

by Mums_the_Word



Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: An Attempt to alter Fate, Confronting an Adversary, Gen, Mediterranean Cruises, Personal Tours, pre-series AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-26 05:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30100980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mums_the_Word/pseuds/Mums_the_Word
Summary: Neal Caffrey is a thorn in Peter’s side—the one who always manages to get away. But what happens when a young con man insists on invading Peter’s space when Peter’s not even in the proper space? It’s tempting, so an FBI agent knows he should take advantage of the unexpected opportunity to understand his nemesis, maybe even turn him around.
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	1. At Your Service

Mozzie found Neal seated at a little wrought iron table in the heart of Rome’s splendors. The world renowned Trevi Fountain, a baroque masterpiece conceived by Italian architect Nicola Salvi and completed by Giuseppe Pannini, was nearby.

“Did you toss a coin in?” Mozzie asked. “You know the old legend. If you toss a coin into that fountain, it means you’ll return to Rome someday.”

Neal grinned. “I think I may have done that a few years ago after the Borghese job.”

“And now here we are again,” Mozzie matched Neal’s contented smile. “This was a nice suggestion on your end, but please clue me in, mon frère. Is this a busman’s holiday, and if so, what’s our target?”

“A certain FBI agent,” Neal answered, causing a little bald man to sigh heavily.

“I thought we left that annoying person back in New York nursing his wounded pride after he failed to nab you for the Frick theft.”

“We did, but Peter’s on the move again, and it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with chasing me this time. I just happen to know he and his wife are currently taking a cruise in this neck of the woods. It’s close to their 10th anniversary, so maybe Peter finally opened his wallet so the moths could fly out and escape.”

“And just how did you know it’s their wedding anniversary? I think you perseverate too much on someone who wants to put you in prison,” Mozzie huffed.

Neal ignored the jab and pulled a colorful foldout pamphlet from his messenger bag. It pictured an impressive luxury liner and happy, smiling travelers at the railing with scenic vistas off in the distance.

“Their ship left Barcelona yesterday and tomorrow it docks in Civitavecchia. Vacationers then will be bussed into the city for tours of the Vatican and other various high spots. Maybe I should offer to be their personal tour guide since I’m quite familiar with some treasures that are rather off the beaten path.”

“Like I said—obsessed much?” Mozzie complained with a scowl.

“What?” Neal was all innocence. “The FBI has no jurisdiction over here, not that Peter could prove a thing if he did decide to get in touch with Interpol or the local police. Besides, this is just a playful lark to keep him interested, but off-balance. According to the itinerary, the ship is only remaining here for two days before they continue south around the toe of the boot and then head north for Greece.”

“Neal, if you keep playing with fire, you’re going to get burned,” Mozzie warned.

A conniving con man snorted. “Peter Burke has been stalking me for years, so maybe it’s time he got a dose of his own medicine. We haven’t been to Athens in quite a while, Moz, so perhaps we should renew an old acquaintance with Athena and her Parthenon.”

“Seriously, Neal, I can’t picture us like some groupies following the Grateful Dead on their farewell tour of Europe.”

“It’ll be fun!” Neal replied, much to Mozzie’s chagrin. The little bald sycophant knew when Neal made up his mind about something, it was a done deal. Mozzie just hoped it didn’t make them “done,” as well.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Neal was up bright and early loitering near St. Peter’s Square. It wasn’t long before a mammoth tour bus chugged into sight and began disgorging avid travelers. Neal spotted Peter quite easily. He looked different, more relaxed, in jeans and a casual white shirt. Elizabeth was beside him dressed in a bright floral dress with a chiffon scarf tied loosely around her head. Neal stood on the edge of the gaggle of vacationers who were met by a local tour guide expounding on the history of the old venerable landmark that was actually its own sovereign state guarded by members of the ancient Swiss Guard in their medieval attire. Eventually, the group moved into the auspicious cathedral. Neal took that opportunity to sidle up to Peter as he gazed almost reverently at the statue of the Pieta.

“Did you know that Michelangelo got pissed when he saw his creation put on display, but he was afforded no recognition for his work. Legend has it that he snuck back into the church after it had closed for the night and chiseled _‘Michala Bonarotus Facieba’_ across the Virgin’s body. The translation is ‘Michelangelo Buonarotti made this.’ I certainly can understand his mindset. I always make it a point to sign my stuff, although most times nobody notices so I don’t get the credit I deserve.”

Peter whipped his head around and scowled. “Caffrey! Damn it, you’re like an albatross slung around my neck. I think I deserve a little respite from your shenanigans!”

Neal looked crestfallen. “I think you’re still unhappy about our last encounter in New York, Agent Burke, but holding a grudge is petty, don’t you think? And should you be using a swear word in a Catholic church, of all places?”

“Go away!! Just go!” Peter was into redundancy.

This outburst caught Elizabeth’s attention and she ambled over curiously. “Well, if it isn’t Peter’s Bad Boy,” she smiled coquettishly. “I’ve seen plenty pictures of you, but they don’t do you justice. You are one handsome young man.”

Neal matched her smile as he held out his hand to capture her’s and bring it to his lips for a kiss. “Neal Caffrey, at your service, Signora Burke.”

“Caffrey, doing bodily harm to you in a church would be sacrilegious and would condemn me to hell, so that’s the only thing keeping me from strangling you right now,” Peter whispered ominously.

Neal ignored Peter and his threat and directed his attention to Elizabeth. “I’m staying near the Spanish Steps, Mrs. Burke. There’s a vendor at the foot of those steps who sells the best gelato in the world. When you’re finished with the Vatican and the Sistine Chapel, I’ll treat you to a cup. Afterwards, we can stroll down the nearby Via del Corso so you can visit shops like Fendi, Gucci, and Gazelle. Of course, we’ll only window shop because I know where you can get the same merchandise at a fraction of the cost. But let’s keep that our little secret.”

“Ignore the fool, El,” Peter muttered. “Maybe he’ll get tired and go bother someone else if he gets no encouragement from us.”

“I doubt that’s a likely scenario,” Elizabeth snickered. “Okay, Mr. Hot Shot, maybe I’ll take you up on your offer. I believe our tour finishes by three o’clock this afternoon, so it’s a date. But I have to warn you that Peter comes along for the ride as my chaperone.”

“Splendid!” Neal crowed. “The more the merrier. Maybe we can even talk your husband into getting some fashionable suits ‘cause I know a tailor down a little side street who is as talented as Gaetano Aloisio, but at half the price.”

“Go away, Neal—NOW!” Peter hissed loudly enough that nearby annoyed sightseers actually turned to shush him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Of course, for the rest of the ship’s prearranged excursion from iconic spot to iconic spot, Peter and Elizabeth had an in depth discussion about meeting Neal later in the afternoon. A frustrated FBI agent, on what should have been a second honeymoon, was trying to convince his wife that Caffrey was a very bad criminal.

“He’s up to something,” Peter warned his wife. “I just haven’t figured out what that is yet.”

Elizabeth smiled. “You said he was a gentleman criminal, Peter, and he certainly is charming and seems harmless enough. I think he just likes being around you, Hon, as weird as that sounds. Maybe it’s a type of man crush.”

“I think he just wants to torture me. Everything he says and does is like sticking bamboo shoots under my fingernails,” Peter growled.

“Well, I think it’s kinda cute—not really something he’s intentionally doing to cause you pain,” El answered her husband. “You always say 'know your enemy,' right? So this is the perfect opportunity to get to know Neal better.”

Peter gave up the argument less than gracefully. “So, I guess that means it’s a Caffrey shopping spree later today with me being a pack mule to tote whatever the two of you decide to buy to help Italy’s economy.”

“Now you’re getting the picture, Hon.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Neal must have been closely monitoring the day’s progress because, at their last stop in the ancient city, he was suddenly front and center juggling three cups of icy gelato.

“This tour guide makes deliveries,” he grinned. “Now we go shopping!”

And much to Peter’s dissatisfaction, that’s exactly what they did. A frugal man tried not to gawk at the exorbitant prices on the collections of shoes and handbags in the high end shops, and flatly refused to let Neal take them to some shady dealer in a dark alley who produced knockoffs, or, even worse, was selling hot goods. Finally, at a certain con man’s urging, Peter did condescend to buy El an Emilio Pucci silk scarf for an indecent amount of Euros. But Peter had to admit that the look of pleasure on his wife’s face made the outlay of money worth it.

When Peter seemed like he was fed up with shopping, Neal switched gears. “There’s still a lot to see in this magnificent city, so let me show you things you’d never see on a cruise line’s rather abbreviated visit to Rome.”

Peter was ready to object, but Elizabeth was flushed and excited and definitely ready to rumble with their new friend. And, surprise, surprise—Neal just happened to have a car and driver idling curbside. Well, Neal wasn’t really “new” to Peter, and he definitely wasn’t a friend. However, this was a side of the young con man that a pursuing federal agent had never seen. Maybe if Peter hung in for the long haul, he might learn something he could use to corral his nemesis.

“This is Mario,” Neal made a breezy introduction as they all piled into the car. He was referring to the short, petulant man with a bad toupee and bushy mustache seated at the wheel of an Alfa Romeo sedan which took off like a shot down the narrow, congested streets. During the remainder of the afternoon, Neal ferried his two guests to esoteric places like the underground labyrinth beneath the ancient Colosseum where gladiators once awaited their turn in the arena. Then it was on to the Capuchin Crypt beneath an ancient church on the Via Veneto displaying a macabre collection of deceased friars’ skeletal remains used to decorate the walls. Lastly, they visited the Basilica di San Clemente, which was for Peter’s benefit since he was the archeology buff.

That unpretentious church was like a Russian nesting doll of houses of worship. It currently stood proudly as a 12th century church, but beneath it was another 4th century church stacked atop a 2nd century pagan temple. Neal shepherded his charges into the 12th century entrance from street level, then led the way down flights of stairs to the 4th century one, then down even further until they ended up at a shrine for Mithras, a Persian god who was known to gain popularity in the 2nd and 3rd centuries in Rome. According to their knowledgeable new guide, the oldest part of the structure was believed to have been an ancient mint.

“Well, this has been an enlightening day,” Peter was willing to admit as the afternoon was winding down.

“This was a fantastic day!” Elizabeth gushed. “Thank you so much, Neal, for making it even more special. Unfortunately, we have to say goodbye because we have second seating dinner reservations on board the ship at 8 pm tonight.”

“Why not have an ‘Arrivederci, Roma’ dinner right here in the city?” Neal said temptingly. “I can arrange for you to have a gastronomic experience that makes an ocean liner’s feeble attempt pale in comparison.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Peter said firmly, visualizing some fancy, pretentious restaurant with lots of Euros tacked onto each course. But then he took in Elizabeth’s hopeful face and knew that resistance was futile.

Neal could read people and knew their weak spots, so charming Elizabeth was his attempt at worming his way into Peter’s life. “Look, guys, Mario will take you back to your ship to freshen up. I’ll write down an address where we can meet for dinner. I’m sure you can get a cab from the pier. I _will_ see you later, won’t I?” he asked hopefully.

And that was how Peter and Elizabeth found themselves standing alone on a quiet cobblestone street in an area known as Trastevere, located south of Vatican City. It looked residential in nature, with tall marble-faced buildings, probably divided into apartments, standing like quiet, ancient sentries along the narrow lanes. There was not one restaurant or commercial establishment in sight.

“Are you sure this is the address Neal wrote down?” Elizabeth asked worriedly.

“Yeah, and I don’t know what kind of game Caffrey’s playing now,” Peter replied getting more indignant by the minute.

Just then, a rider on a Vespa roared down the street and stopped beside the couple.

“You’re early,” Neal grinned as he flipped up his helmet’s visor. “That’s okay. Signora Bella won’t mind,” he added as he hitched his bike up onto the sidewalk and motioned for Peter and Elizabeth to follow him through the front door of the adjacent building, and up two flights of stairs. They stopped at a door that opened to Neal’s knock and found an older round-faced matron in an apron smiling broadly at them. Then she was actually engulfing Neal in an exuberant hug, kissing him on both cheeks, and babbling happily in Italian.

“This is Mama Bella, a delightful friend of mine who loves to spoil me when I’m in town,” Neal explained. “I called her earlier and asked if I could bring two guests for dinner and she was delighted to show you some Old World charm as well as some authentic homemade dishes that are her specialties. She doesn’t speak English, so I can translate, although all you’ll need to do to please her is _mangiare._ That’s Italian for 'eat hearty,' in case you’re wondering.”

And the meal was exquisite, every course a culinary delight. After the crisp salad, the tantalizing soup, the delicate pasta and then the sea-salt encrusted fish, Peter wasn’t sure he could move. Mama Bella looked crestfallen when the tall American couldn’t bring himself to indulge in the cannoli or the fresh fruit and cheese she offered on a little silver tray. Peter made up for that with two espressos and that seemed to pacify their hostess.

“I’m not even going to ask how you came to know this national treasure of a woman,” Peter arched an eyebrow at a person who had become sort of his obsession, at least when they were in New York.

“It’s best you don’t ask and just accept a little mystique about yours truly,” Neal teased.

“Well, when in Rome, as the saying goes,” Peter rolled his eyes.

And it was on that high note that Neal, Peter, and Elizabeth parted ways. The American couple waved to Neal from the window of a taxi, then later boarded their ship for the last leg of their journey—a day in Athens and, finally, a last port of call in Santorini, a Greek isle nestled like a jewel in the Aegean Sea.


	2. And The Beat Goes On

Maybe Peter shouldn’t have been surprised to spot Neal Caffrey in his peripheral vision near the majestic ruins of the Parthenon. Peter didn’t acknowledge the incorrigible con man and thief, so maybe he’d just go away. But no—Caffrey was like a tick determined to attach himself to Peter every time he set foot on the ground. Elizabeth, however, was delighted.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in!” Elizabeth wasn’t helping the cause by sauntering over to the persistent young man and confronting him with a smile.

Neal rewarded her with his own trademark grin. “Right—cats. You may have noticed that Athens is filled with the feral kind in vast numbers. Probably has something to do with keeping the rodent population under control.”

“And yet, here you are anyway,” Peter snarked nastily.

To his credit, Neal had a ready comeback. “Is that a clumsy reference to the cat and mouse game we seem to be playing back in the States? Actually, I prefer to visualize myself as the Roadrunner constantly thwarting Wiley Coyote at every turn.”

Elizabeth groaned. “Boys! Can we be a little less contentious? Peter is not an FBI agent today. He’s a tourist on a much-needed holiday exploring a place where the cradle of democracy began.”

“Right,” Neal agreed, “walking in the ancient footsteps of Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates.”

“Very dusty footprints,” El agreed while Peter glowered.

“I’m sure you’ll find Santorini much more quaintly enchanting,” the young stalker told her.

“Of course you would know that!” Peter grumbled. “But just so you also know, my wife and I are hot and tired, so we’re done for the day and returning to the ship. No extra sightseeing or dinners in someone’s private home.”

“I can live with that,” Neal agreed. “But face it, Peter, I do intrigue you on some level. How about you and I have a drink later in a little bar I know down near the harbor. It’s a no-frills kind of place, so you should feel right at home. C’mon, Buddy, it’s tradition to partake of at least one glass of ouzo when you’re in Greece.”

“And why would I want to hobnob with you?” Peter challenged.

“To get to know me better, of course,” Neal dangled a tantalizing bit of bait.

“Give me the address,” Peter couldn’t help himself. He accepted the dare less than gracefully.

Caffrey awarded him a brilliant smile and then sauntered away headed back to the city. Peter watched his retreating back as it became smaller and smaller on the horizon. Peter had the forethought to bring a camera on his vacation, not wanting to be dependent on his phone to capture pictures in all the amazing places they were visiting. The sophisticated Nikon slung around his neck was equipped with a telephoto lens, perfect for wide vistas seen from afar. He utilized that function now to keep Neal in sight, and that proved to be fortuitous. Just before Neal disappeared from view, Peter saw the young man joined by two people—a short, bald man and a pretty young woman with long brown hair. They were bracketing the con man like bookends while engaging him in conversation. Peter now knew that Neal Caffrey had a posse, so that probably meant he had an agenda as well!

~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m surprised you agreed to meet him,” El remarked to her husband as he was donning his casual clothes and preparing to leave the ship after dinner.

“Caffrey is up to something. I can feel it in my gut,” Peter answered his wife.

“How can you be so sure it’s something bad?” El said sensibly. “He’s been a perfect gentleman and quite charming.”

“Charm is his stock in trade, Hon,” Peter snorted. “That’s what he does. He lulls his marks into a sense of complacency right before he drops the hammer.”

“Peter, what could he possibly want from us. I don’t think he sees us as marks.”

“He’s trying to con us—well, con me,” Peter said confidently.

“Maybe he’s just reaching out because he admires you?” El was hopeful. “Maybe tonight you’ll realize that he’s only trying to connect with you for a benign reason rather than a nefarious one. Give him a chance, Hon.”

“El, I know you always want to see the good in everyone, but maybe people like Neal Caffrey are more bad than good.”

“Just promise me you’ll keep an open mind, Peter. Give him a chance,” Elizabeth repeated.

“We’ll see.” Peter was noncommittal.

~~~~~~~~~~

The address Neal had provided was an unassuming hole-in-the wall type of gin joint down near the docks. When Peter stepped into the dim interior, he could have been stepping into any bar in Tribeca or SoHo in Manhattan, except in this one, patrons were speaking Greek. He quickly located Caffrey seated at a small side table with his back to the wall and a drink in his hand.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Neal commented as Peter sank down in a chair across from him.

“When you threw down the gauntlet, how could I have backed down?” Peter replied.

“You make this sound like some duel or fight to the death,” Neal remarked.

“Well, isn’t it a type of duel, in a way? It’s always been a game of parry and thrust with us.”

Neal sighed and signaled the waiter with two fingers. After fresh glasses of ouzo were delivered to the table, he sat back and studied his nemesis.

“You’re smart, Peter Burke, and I like smart people. Ergo, I like you.”

“I could say that you’re smart, too, but that doesn’t equate to a bond of friendship. I’m a cop and you’re a criminal, so that doesn’t make us BFFs,” Peter answered tightly.

“Yet here we are about to share a drink. And, you only _think_ I’m a criminal. You can’t prove it,” Neal reminded him.

Peter shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I’m not quite sure what or who you are,” a stymied but inquisitive FBI agent admitted. “Why don’t you help me figure you out. Let’s start with this. Is Neal Caffrey even your real name?”

“It’s a perfectly good name, don’t you think?” Neal grinned.

“Sure, I’ll drink to that,” Peter agreed as he swallowed down his ouzo in one gulp and watched Neal follow suit. “Now, indulge me by telling me how old you really are. What we have at the Bureau is only what suddenly cropped up when you were supposedly eighteen.”

“I’m of legal age to drink this ouzo, if that’s what has you worried,” Neal replied as he called for another round.

“Even so, I think you’re immature, cocky, and foolhardy, Neal,” Peter answered, using the con man’s first name. “Like all young people, you think you’re invincible. In my experience, even the brightest stars eventually burn out and fall from the sky. You will get caught one day and go to prison. That’s not a place you want to be, kiddo. A worst outcome would be that you get yourself killed. And for what? Some painting done by some long-dead artist that people have decided was a talented genius. There are other things in this life worth more than a Monet or a Degas.”

Neal was thoughtful, or maybe his brain was a bit slower since some time had passed and they were now three ouzos in. He didn’t have a snappy comeback. Instead, it was more of a poignant question that surprised Peter.

“Would you miss me—I mean if I went to prison or died?”

“Why is that important to you, Neal? Aren’t there other people in your life, maybe like a family, who care about you? You aren’t some pitiful orphan, are you?”

“Of course I have family!” Neal insisted. “I wasn’t some abandoned waif raised by wolves in the wilderness. And I have friends, too, so I’m not antisocial or a sociopath.”

“Are they friends or merely cohorts in crime?” Peter challenged.

When he was met with an angry glare, Peter continued to push his case. “Listen, Buddy, you’re right about one thing. We don’t have any solid evidence tying you to any crimes back in the States. It’s all supposition and circumstantial and would never stand up in a court of law. So, take advantage of that. You’re very young with your whole life in front of you yet to unfold. You have so much potential. You can turn yourself around. That will get me and a lot of other law enforcement agencies off your back.”

“So, the straight and narrow,” Neal finally replied after he digested Peter’s words of wisdom.

“Yeah, do you think you can do that?”

“I guess that begs the question of do I _want_ to go that route,” was the contrary answer. “Maybe I like living on the edge.”

“If you’re an adrenalin junkie, Neal, then find other outlets to get that same high. Free fall out of airplanes or go over Niagara Falls in a barrel. Your hijinks can be incredibly stupid but they don’t have to be illegal.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Peter sat back and studied his puzzling companion, who seemed to be a definite light-weight when it came to hard liquor. Neal now had his head propped on one hand and was staring at Peter with bleary eyes. He wasn’t slurring his words yet, but Peter hoped he wasn’t going to be driving anywhere later this evening. To keep him engaged, the older man kept the conversation going in the hope that his words would have some impact on a vulnerable, inebriated mind.

“Maybe it’s time for a little introspection, Buddy,” Peter cajoled. “Look into that amazing brain of yours and figure out what’s driving you to be who you are. What’s lacking in your life that makes you feel compelled to do dangerous things? Somehow, I don’t think it’s money. Maybe it’s more about validation. Are you so insecure that you need someone like me to notice you and tell you that you’re talented and brilliant? If you can find that answer, then maybe you’ll hit on why you’re a criminal.”

“Maybe it’s just the way I’m wired,” the young man shrugged helplessly. “I am what I am, so maybe I can’t change or even want to.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?” Peter asked because he really wanted to know.

“Maybe that’s one answer I don’t know myself,” Neal grudgingly admitted. Then a slightly tipsy man seemed to pull himself together and leverage his way up from the chair. “We’ve managed to be somewhat convivial and not quite adversaries for almost an hour, so maybe we shouldn’t push our luck. I should be going and you should go back to your wife. Good talk, Peter.”

But Peter had to get in the last word. “Just know this, Neal. One day I will take you down.”

“Is that a threat, Agent Burke?”

“No, Neal, it’s a promise.”

The young man produced a melancholy smile. “Well, in that case, my advice to you is this. If you intend to shoot the king, don’t miss. I think that’s a quote by Machiavelli that I read somewhere.”

“I won’t miss,” Peter replied seriously.

“Well, Buddy, you can certainly try. So, maybe I’ll see you in Santorini tomorrow.”

“Yeah, later,” Peter found himself agreeing as Neal carefully made his way out of the bar. An observant lawman wasn’t surprised to see a familiar young woman with long brown hair slide off a bar stool a minute later and exit the premises, as well. Peter would bet that a short, bald man was also outside lurking in the shadows. Again, that posed the question—friends or accomplices in some caper yet to unfold? Neal Caffrey really was an enigma.

~~~~~~~~~~

As Neal had predicted, the island of Santorini was beautiful. White-washed building were perched in tiers on a mountainside overlooking a deep, blue caldera. The beaches were exotic black sand, courtesy of ancient seismic activity back in the days of the Minoan civilization.

“Legend says that the great city of Atlantis once stood where that caldera is today before a cataclysmic eruption caused it to sink beneath the sea,” Neal said as he again appeared in Peter and Elizabeth’s life. “Sort of like—here today, then poof, gone tomorrow.”

“Yeah, maybe like someone we know,” Peter remarked as he stared hard at Neal. The young man looked sharp and bright-eyed with no hint of a hangover from the previous night’s bender.

El was delighted with Neal’s reappearance. “So, a personal tour today?”

Neal rewarded her with a small smile. “I can stay for a bit, perhaps escort you up to the top of the mountain. It’s a magnificent view that shouldn’t be missed, and there’s usually vendors hawking gold Byzantine jewelry up there. Some of the pieces are quite pretty.”

“But it sounds like you may have some other place to be, so maybe we shouldn’t keep you from whatever,” Peter taunted.

“Oh, Peter, I’ll always make time for you and your gorgeous wife.”

Neal was right, just like always. The view was stunning—a fascinating vista of pristine white homes broken only by the azure domes of the numerous churches. The con man presented Elizabeth with a delicate filigreed gold charm shaped like a leaf. When he found Peter glaring at him, he held up his hands.

“I paid for it, so stop giving me the evil eye!”

“Is that the truth, Neal?” Peter demanded to know.

“In this instance, it is,” the cheeky con man said reassuringly. “Now, as much as I hate to part company with you, I really have to go now.”

“Places to be and people to see?” Peter snarked.

“Yeah, something like that.”

And just like that, Neal Caffrey disappeared like a phantom from the Burkes’ lives. El would wear the tiny leaf on a chain around her neck quite often in the days that followed. She told Peter it reminded her of someone who had suddenly blown into their life for a little while until the capricious winds swept him away again.

It was a week later, after Peter had returned to his duties at the Bureau, that the Interpol memo came across his desk and captured his attention. It concerned an attempted robbery in Copenhagen, Denmark, just two days after Neal had left them in Greece. Apparently a male-female couple had scaled the walls of the Amalienborg Place, most likely intending to steal gems from the Royal family’s vault. They weren’t successful, and the female part of the team was captured by the Royal Guardsmen as she attempted a leap off the gatehouse. She was being detained in a hospital after sustaining non-life threatening injuries. She had subsequently been identified as known fence, Alexandra Hunter. However, she refused to name her accomplice.

Peter studied the very familiar face of the attractive young woman with long brown hair. Now she had a name. Peter also believed he knew the name of her handsome partner in the caper. Maybe Neal had been right when he mused that certain people were simply hard-wired to do incredibly dangerous things. And apparently everything that Peter had put on the table during a night of drinking had fallen on deaf ears.

“So, okay, I guess that’s my answer,” Peter murmured softly, “and now it’s back to game on, Neal!”


End file.
